Zugzwang
by Lady Callista
Summary: If there was any spark of Emma still in there, if the light and love he had crossed worlds and died to find and protect was still in there somewhere, and he had to believe it was, he couldn't give this dark Swan the words. But he couldn't deny his heart and say he didn't love her either. Killian introspective, CS at heart.


Disclaimer: I do not in anyway own Once Upon A Time. ABC, Disney, the amazing A&E and whoever else have that distinction. No profit is being made, and no copywrite infringement in intended.

AN: I'm really not sure why this happened. Damn plot bunnies. As always reviews and constructive criticism very welcome. CS at heart, but mostly just Killian introspective. Enjoy!

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Zugzwang

by Lady Callista

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Zugzwang, noun, chess

A situation in which the obligation to make a move in one's turn is a serious, often decisive, disadvantage.

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 _If you tell me you don't love me, I will let you go._

Killian woke for the third time that night, the damned words still echoing in his mind. He'd dreamed that moment every time he fell asleep, only with a bizarre twist on this last go round.

It had been a good dream for once, a memory of Liam teaching him to play chess, a gentleman's game that was far removed from the dice and cards in the dirty taverns of their youth. A game of strategy and thought rather than trying to cheat, or getting your throat slit in a dark alley if you happened to do too well one night.

 _"So you've left me a choice between the devil and the deep blue sea."_

 _Liam chuckled, eyeing the neat trap his bishops and rook had his little brother in. "It's called Zugzwang." He offered, still chuckling over the annoyance on Killian's face as he leaned back from the table and took a sip of his wine._

 _Killian's head tilted as he studied the table. "So this is like when you showed me Fool's Mate? A specific..."_

 _"No, it's more general." Liam explained. "It's not the pieces nor where they are, but the fact that you would actually be better off if you didn't have to move right now. Whatever move you make puts you at a disadvantage, yet you have no choice, for you're in the situation and you must make a move. It's about finding the best possible solution when none of them are good. It's also a good lesson for a future captain."_

 _Killian broke eye contact then, fingers reaching up to scratch at his neck as he pretended to study the board. His brother would never understand the fact that he didn't want to be a captain himself, he only wanted to stay at Liam's side._

 _He'd just reached down to move his queen, accepting that it really was the best possible move even though he'd lose her, when suddenly that black queen took on Emma's face, and as he jolted, his hand falling back, the words whispered through his heart._

 _If you tell me you don't love me, I will let you go._

Killian sighed, knowing he wouldn't be sleeping further tonight, but that was nothing new. It didn't take him long to realize why his sleeping mind had connected those two memories, for it was exactly how he'd felt earlier in the day.

As he rose, going to his desk and pulling out a bottle of rum, the words echoed in his head again and he felt a brief flash of anger. He'd never said the words to her -at least not that he remembered, he thought bitterly- and the fact that she would ask him under the circumstances caused that anger to burn brighter for a moment.

He might have never said the words, but she knew that he loved her. She knew she was his happy ending, and she had asked him to save that. To save her and that happiness, that light that he had fallen for.

He had sworn that he would, to himself since she hadn't given him time to swear it to her -again, not that he remembered, he thought as the bitterness grew. He would do anything for her, and the fact that he had somehow failed her and couldn't even remember was an ache deep within him that had started the moment he realized his memories were gone, and only grown in the days that followed.

And yet she had said that to him, knowing she was putting him in an impossible position. They both knew that he could never say he didn't love her. He simply couldn't.

If this had been one of the more romanticized versions her world had of their story, he would have done it and it would have saved her. Saying he didn't love her would make her realize what she was doing was wrong, and she would abandon the darkness and be his Emma again and he could tell her he loved her as she whispered the words back. If he had thought it would save her, he would have been able to do it, but the tales he had been raised on were far darker and he knew the words wouldn't miraculously fix everything.

He couldn't say he didn't love her, but he couldn't tell her he loved her either. She was trying to manipulate him for some reason, and while he couldn't ascertain to what end, he knew he couldn't go with either of the obvious options she presented him. He'd tried to outwit the dark one for too long to play along with her games.

He couldn't say the words now, not when she was like this, not when she really wasn't the Emma he loved. His eyes scanned over her dress, her hair, the softness and warmth back on her face, and he tried to remember the surge of love that had gone through him the first time he saw her like this. But then he met her eyes, and saw the cunning where there was once love. No, if there was any spark of Emma still in there, if the light and love he had crossed worlds and died to find and protect was still in there, and he had to believe it was, he couldn't give this dark Swan the words.

And so he dropped his eyes, just slightly, and took in only the visage of his Emma, and the surge of love he'd felt when he first saw her in that dress echoed through him once again, and he was speaking the words almost before he'd realized the truth of them. "I loved you."

He didn't mean it in the past tense, not exactly, although he knew that was how she would take it. He saw the flash of pain in her eyes, saw his lost girl for a moment, and almost broke. But the words were true, he loved _her,_ that lost girl with the walls she was slowly letting him break down. The amazing woman who had finally said she loved him at what was quiet possibly the bloody worst time imaginable.

He almost broke, but then the pain was gone from her eyes, and they were talking again, and then she was gone.

But that glimmer he had seen, as much as he hated that it had been pain he caused, was the real Emma. Was his bright Swan, his broken orphan, the one who had healed him even as he tried to heal her. And he had to fight for that glimmer now, and make her fight for herself. If he was with her when she was like this, if he said he still loved her it implied that he accepted her like this, and he couldn't.

She had asked him to save her, well, okay, him and her parents and the queen, but she had known he would take it on himself, or she didn't know him at all. And right now, if he wanted to save her, he couldn't be with her.

Killian pulled himself forcefully from the memory, taking a large swig of rum, barely feeling the burn over the deep ache that was always pulsing in his heart for his lost love.

He opened the drawer of his desk again, pulling out a battered box filled with chess pieces. He pulled out the white queen, rolling it between his fingers as he remembered the first time he had beaten Liam at chess. His brother had proclaimed zugzwang with a smirk, and Killian had grinned back as he saw it wasn't true, his brother had missed something.

He only hoped that he was right that Emma had missed something the same way. By neither saying what she wanted, nor the implied other choice, but by saying what he did, he only hoped he had indeed made the best possible move. The next one was hers, and he wondered if and when it would occur to her that he hadn't actually said he didn't love her.

THE END


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